Hetalia: The Tales of Beedle the Bard
by Oilux
Summary: The tales of the Beedle and Bard, but starring the Hetalia characters. From the Tale of the Three Brothers to the Warlock's Hairy Heart.
1. The Tale of the Three Brothers

Sort of like a Harry Potter and Hetalia crossover.

* * *

><p>It was one day when three brothers, Arthur Francis and Alfred, found themselves walking along a road. Suddenly their road was blocked by a rapid and raging river. Not knowing what else to do, the three brothers worked together to build a bridge, and passed over the river safely. Half way across the bridge they were met with a hooded figure, the figure of Death itself.<p>

Normally people would attempt to swim and would drown, and Death was upset over having lost three new victims. Instead Death thought of a new way to get their souls.

"You three have managed to outwit me. You each may have one thing that you desire." His voice was hauntingly capturing. The first brother smirked.

"Okay, Death, since you're so generous. I wish to have strength that will never fail in battle." Alfred said with a grin. Death flicked his bony wrist, making it so.

Alfred went and lifted a tree straight out of the ground, roots and all. The other two brothers gaped in awe, wondering what they should ask for. With a sudden thought the second brother, Francis, knew what he wished for.

"I wish to have the power to recall others from your clutches." He said. Death frowned but gave him the ability. Francis didn't need to prove it, he could feel the new ability coursing through his veins.

"How about you, Arthur?" Death asked. Arthur blinked, even after all this he still didn't trust death.

"I wish for something to let me go back and forth between places without being followed by Death." Death reluctantly handed over a cloak of invisibility.

After that the three brothers continued on their way, talking about the new abilities they had acquired. Eventually though they had to split paths, but wished each other the best of luck in their travels.

Alfred went to a pub, where he challenged every man he could. He went undefeated throughout the entire night, eventually getting drunk and getting a room. Another man, consumed with jealousy, snuck into his room during the night, slitting Alfred's throat.

And so Death claimed the first brother as his own.

Francis went back to his own hometown, where he immediately brought back the girl that he had hoped to marry, if she had not died. She was incomplete though, not really in the world of the living and not yet dead. Consumed with guilt of the unnatural deed he had committed, Francis hung himself, so that he could properly be with her.

And so Death claimed the second brother as his own.

Death searched for years and years to find Arthur, but he could never find him. It was only when Arthur had reached a very old age that he took off his cloak of invisibility and passed the treasure onto his son. Then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and as equals they departed this life and went onto the next one.


	2. The Man and the Hopping Pot

The Man and the Hopping Pot

* * *

><p>There was once and kindly old man by the name of Antonio, who had a pot that according to the village, was believed to be made of magic. He never did let the village know what made his pot magic, but every time some misfortune happened Antonio would simply stir his pot and whatever concoction came out it would heal the troubles.<p>

From miles and miles around, people would come to him with their troubles, and Antonio would always be more than happy to make his concoctions and make everything better.

Yet all good men must die. At the right old age, Antonio passed on; leaving everything he had to his son, Lovino. Lovino wasn't anything like his father, and he didn't see the point in helping others if it didn't help him.

When Antonio had died, Lovino found a small slipper inside of the pot. It was much too small for him, and was very soft and thick. On top of that, there was only one. Inside the slipper was a note in Antonio's writing saying, "In the fond hope, Lovi, that you never need it."

Lovino scoffed, and threw the slipped back in the pot, cursing his father's soft heart. Lovino threw the pot into the cupboard, thinking that it was rubbish and not even worth his time.

Just a few hours later a peasant woman knocked on his front door.

"My daughter is sick," she told him. "Your father used to make her a special mixture with his pot-"

"Like I give a damn!" He yelled at her. "Why should I care if your daughters dead?"

Then he slammed the door on her face and went to pick tomatoes.

Almost immediately though after he shut the door, there was a large clanging. Lovino went into the other room to see the pot that he had abandoned earlier, hopping around the room. It had sprouted a single foot, and was making the worst noise on his floor. It seemed sick as well, the way that it was coughing like a person and sniffling. Lovino did everything he could to make it quiet, but nothing seemed to work.

"Shut the fuck up! Stupid pot," Lovino complained to himself. He went upstairs, hoping that the pot would stay downstairs, but it followed him without trouble. Each step it took made the biggest 'clang' that Romano had ever heard in his life. Romano decided to go throughout his day like normal, when there was another knock at the door.

"Please m donkey has gone missing. Without him, I can't make any money, my family will go hungry!" The old man pleaded.

"And I'm hungry now bastard!" Romano roared, slamming the door shut.

Now the pot hopped into the room on its single foot, but now its foot was more like a donkey's hoof, and it had the ears and tail of a donkey! It was making the human groans and donkey squeals as well.

"Shut up!"

Still the pot did not quiet, and it followed Romano around wherever he went, making as much noise as it could. Right when the sun began to set in the horizon, there was another knock at the door.

"My baby! My baby is sick," she cried. "Won't you please help-"

Romano shut the door on her before she could even finish. The pot banged into the room, now wailing the cry of a child.

No one else came to bother Romano for the rest of the week, but the pot seemed to get more and more annoying with as the villages troubles grew. It grew worse and worse, and wouldn't let Romano get a moments rest. Soon his lack of sleep made it so that Romano couldn't eat, and not even his delicious tomatoes tasted the same. No matter what, the pot would not sit still or be quiet.

Finally Romano could not take it anymore. He went and stirred a concoction in the pot, just the way that Antonio had taught him. Then, with as much as he could carry, Romano ran out of his house with the hopping pot still following him.

"Bring me your troubles! I'll solve them all! Everything!" Romano yelled in town, making everyone come out of their homes. "I'll cure sickness, mend things, even comfort! I have my father's pot and everything shall be well!"

And with the pot still at his heels, Romano went and cured everything that he could.

The poor girl that the woman had come to him earlier was healed with just one taste of the potion. He told the man with the missing donkey to place some on his porch and he would find the donkey the next morning on his porch. Sure enough the next morning the donkey was there. Then Romano went and gave some to the sick infant, and the baby was healed in the hour.

By the end of the night the pot was shiny and clean, and most importantly, quiet.

"Well pot? Are you happy now?" Romano asked, he was bitter towards the pot, but he couldn't deny the fact that it felt good helping all those people.

In response the pot burped out the single slipper that had been inside it before, and allowed Romano to place it on its foot. Together they went back home, with the pots footsteps muffled at last. From that day forward, Romano helped the villagers out and asked for nothing in return, just like his father before him, lest the pot cast off its slipper and begin to hop once more.


	3. Arthur Kirkland and his crackling pot

Arthur Kirkland and his crackling stump.

* * *

><p>A long time ago, in a faraway land, there lived a foolish King who thought that he and he alone should have the power of magic. He then proclaimed that the Brigade of Witch Hunters should be made, and gave them a pack of ferocious black hounds. Yet at the same time, he issued another proclamation that said, 'Wanted by the King: an Instructor in Magic.'<p>

No true Wizard or Witch would come forward, as they were all too busy running from the Brigade of Witch Hunters.

However a cunning man with no magical powers went forward, seeing a chance to enrich himself for the better. He went to the palace, claiming that he was a wizard of amazing skill. He did some simple magic and convinced the foolish King of his power. The King immediately appointed him the Grand Sorcerer in Chief, and the King's Private Magic Master.

The man, known as Alfred F. Jones, had the King give him a large sack of gold, so that he could go and buy wands and other necessities. He also requested several large rubies, so that he cast charms, and finally a silver chalice so that he could store and mature potions. All these things the King provided.

Alfred stored all these things safely then returned to the palace.

Alfred didn't know that he was being watched by a man who worked in his house at the edge of the castle grounds. His name was Arthur Kirkland, and he was the washman who kept the palace linens soft, fragrant, and white. Peering from his place behind the drying sheets, Arthur saw Alfred snap two branches from one of the King's trees and disappear inside the palace.

Alfred gave one of the twigs from the tree to the King, and assured the King that it was a wand of great power.

"It will only work," Alfred said, "when you're worthy of it."

Every morning the King and Alfred would walk into the palace grounds, where they would wave their wands and shout nonsense to the sky. Alfred was certain to cast more tricks, so that the King would be convinced that he had magic skills.

One morning the King and Alfred were doing as they always did, twirling their twigs and hopping in circles, and chanting meaningless rhymes. The sound of Arthur's cracking laughter reached their ears. Arthur was watching the King and Alfred from his hiding place in her tiny cottage. He was laughing so hard at their antics that he couldn't stand on his own.

"I must look so stupid to make our old washman laugh so much!" The King exclaimed. He ceased everything that he was doing and frowned, "I won't practice anymore, when can I do magic in front my subjects?"

Alfred tried his best to sooth the King, assuring that he would soon be able to perform great magic, but Arthur's laughter stung the foolish King more than Alfred knew.

"Tomorrow, we will invite the entire court to watch me perform magic!" The King claimed.

Alfred knew that the time had come to take his treasure and flee.

"But your majesty, I have to leave tomorrow to go and get more medical supplies and junk," Alfred tried to weasel his way out of it, but the King would have none of it.

"You will not leave! If you do, then I will have the Brigade of Witch Hunters to hunt you down. Tomorrow you will help me with magic to my subjects, and if anyone laughs, you will be beheaded!"

The King left back to his state room, leaving Alfred alone and scared for his life. Nothing he could do would save him now, for he couldn't leave and he couldn't talk his way out of this. Looking for a way to vent his anger and fear, Alfred went to the window of Arthur the washman, determined to tell her off. When he looked into the window he saw Arthur sitting in a chair polishing his wand, and in the corner the linens were washing themselves.

Alfred knew at once that Arthur was a true wizard, and that it was him who could solve his problem.

"You! You were the one who got me in so much trouble. You have to help me now, and if you don't then I will tell everyone that you're a witch, and you'll get torn apart by the hounds."

Arthur smiled, and said that he would do everything in his power to help. Alfred told him to conceal himself in a bush, and perform all the spells that the King performed without his knowledge. Arthur agreed, but had one question.

"What if he tries to do a spell that I cannot do?"

Alfred scoffed.

"Your power is equal to that idiot's imagination," Alfred assured, as he left to go back to the castle, happy that he came up with a way to get out of his predicament.

The next morning all the men and women of the Kingdom assembled into the palace grounds. The King got onto stage in front of them, with Alfred at his side.

"I shall now make this ladies hat disappear!" The King cried out, pointing his twig at the woman.

From inside the bush, Arthur pointed his want at the hat, and made it vanish. The crowd was shocked, and applauded greatly.

"Now, I'll make this horse fly!" The King cried, pointing his twig at the horse.

From inside the bush, Arthur pointed his wand at the horse and made it rise high into the air. The crowd was even more amazed and roared as loudly as they could.

"And now…" The King trailed off, looking around for an idea, and the Captain of the Brigade of Witch Hunters ran forward.

"Your majesty! Just this morning, Pochi, one of our hounds, died. Please bring him back to life!" asked the Captain. He heaved onto stage the dead body of the hound.

The foolish King brandished his twig, but the dead god did not rise. Arthur smiled and did nothing, for no magic can bring back the dead. When the dig didn't rise, the crowd began to whisper, and then they began to laugh. They began to think that the previous displays of magic were nothing more than card tricks.

"Why doesn't it work?" The King screamed at Alfred, much like a child when he doesn't get his way. Alfred did the only thing he could think of.

"There! Look there your majesty!" Alfred pointed to the bush where Arthur was concealed. "I see him easily, a wicked wizard who is blocking your magic with his own. Seize him! Guards!"

Arthur ran as fast as he could from the bush, the Brigade of Witch Hunters on his heels. Yet when Arthur reached a low hedge, he vanished from sight. When the King, Alfred, and everyone else arrived they found the hounds at the base of a tree, scratching and clawing at it.

"He has turned himself into a tree!" Alfred screamed, and worried that Arthur would become human again and reveal him, he added, "Cut him down! It's the only way your majesty."

Almost immediately, an axe was brought, and the old tree was chopped down within minutes. Everyone cheered when they heard the 'thump' of the tree hitting the ground. Yet as they turning away and back to the palace, the sound of crackling laughter stopped them in their tracks.

"Bloody idiots!" cried Arthur's voice from the tree stump that had been left behind.

"No witch or wizard can be killed simply by cutting them in half! Take that axe, if you don't believe me, and cut the Grand Sorcerer in two!"

The Captain of the Witch Brigade, happy to have an experiment, raised the axe. But as soon as he did so, Alfred fell to his knees, revealing everything begging for mercy. As he was dragged away, Arthur's voice laughed louder than ever.

"By cutting me in half you have unleashed a deadly curse!" Arthur told the scared King. "Now every stroke of harm you place upon my fellow witches and wizards you will feel as if the blow was made to yourself instead of them. It will get so maddening, eventually you will wish you would die from it, but you never will!"

At the final words the King fell to his knees as well, claiming that he would make it so that no witch and wizard would be harmed again,

"Good enough, but you have yet to make it up to me yet!" Arthur said.

"Anything you wish!" sobbed the foolish King, bowing before the stump.

"Right here you will make a statue of me, to forever remind you of your foolishness," said Arthur.

The King immediately agreed, and set out to find the best sculptor and also said that the statue should be made out of pure gold. Eventually everyone left, leaving Arthur crackling to himself.

When the palace grounds were deserted, from the small hole in the stump came out a green bunny with wings, and it held Arthur's wand between its teeth. Arthur hopped out and hopped away and never came back, even as the statue was erected and stood upon the tree stump. No witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the Kingdom again.


	4. The Fountain of Fair Fortune

The Fountain of Fair Fortune.

* * *

><p>High on a hill was a forest, and deep inside that forest there was a castle. Inside that castle there was a fountain that was possessed by a powerful magic. The fountain was known as the Fountain of Fair Fortune.<p>

Oce a year, between sunrise and sunset on the longest day of the year, a single person would be given the chance to fight their way to the Fountain. Where they would bathe in its water, and have fortune for the rest of their life.

On such day of the longest day, hundreds of people traveled from everywhere in the world to reach the castle walls before dawn. Male and female, old and young, rich and poor, magical and non-magical gathered in the darkness, each hoping that they would be able to get into the garden.

Three warlocks, who each had their own burdens, met outside the crowd, and told each other their troubles before dawn came when their boredom was getting to them.

The first warlock, by the name of Antonio, was sick of some unknown disease that no one could cure. He hoped beyond hope that the Fountain would be able to heal him from his misery of sickness and give him a long and happy life.

The second, by the name of Gilbert, had been robbed of home, riches and his wand by an evil man who wanted expand his own reign of terror. He hoped beyond hope that the Fountain would be able to relieve him of his poverty and powerlessness.

The third, by the name of Francis, had been deserted by a woman who he had loved dearly. Francis had thought that his heart would never be able to mend from the pain she had caused. He hoped beyond all hope that the Fountain would be able to relieve him of his pain and longing.

Knowing each other's pain they agreed that if they got the chance, they would unite and help each other to get into the garden and then the fountain together.

The sky was blood red with the first rays of the run, and that was when the first crack in the wall appeared. The crowd raced forward, all of them shrieking to claim the the Fountains riches. Creeps from the garden snaked out and wound themselves around the first warlock, Antonio, who then grabbed the second warlock, Gilbert. He grabbed the arm of the second warlock, Francis.

And Francis got caught up in the armor of a sorrowful knight, who was seated on a bone-thin horse.

The creepers dragged the three warlocks into the garden and brought the knight. His poor horse was left behind. Behind the wall the cries of the disappointed rang through the morning air. Then everything quieted down to the point where one could hear a pin drop.

Gilbert and Antonio were pissed at Francis for bringing along the night.

"God Francis! It's gonna be hard enough to decide between the three of us, how could you bring along another?"

Now the knight, called Matthew by his friends, saw that they all possessed magic and he himself having no skills, with his sword, was sure that he had no hope of beating the three men to the fountain. He declared that he had no interest in the Fountain and was going to retreat back outside. When Francis heard this, he became angry as well.

"Don't be so weak!" he chided. "Take your sword and help us reach our goal then!"

And so the three warlocks and the knight went forth into the magic garden, where rare herbs and fruit like which the world had never seen before grew. There was no obstacle until they reached the foot of the hill on which the Fountain stood.

At the base of the hill there was a monstrous white Worm, who was so bloated he was blind. As they got closer, he turned his foul face towards them and uttered the words:

"Pay me the proof of your pain."

Matthew drew his sword and tried to slay the beast, but the blade snapped in half. Then Gilbert stared to throw stones at it while Francis and Antonio cast every spell they knew. Their power was no more effective than their friend's stones or Matthew's blade. The Worm refused to move from its spot.

The sun rose higher and higher into the air, and Antonio, despairing, began to cry,

The great Worm came forward and pressed its monstrous face against hers and drank up his tears. The Worms thirst quenched, it slithered back into its dark hole.

Rejoicing, the four men began to climb the hill, sure that the Fountain would be in their reach before noon.

Halfway up the hill, there was a message cut into the ground before them.

"Pay me the fruit of your labors." Matthew kneeled on the ground and took out his one rusty coin and placed it in front of the words, but it rolled away and was lost. They all continued to climb, but though they walked for hours they got no higher on the hill. The words were still in front of them and the Fountain got no closer.

They were all discouraged, as the sun rose over their heads, but Gilbert refused to quit. He walked faster and harder than the rest of them and encouraged everyone to follow him. "Come on we can't give up!" he cried as he swiped the seat from his forehead.

As the drops fell to the earth the words on the ground faded and they found that once more they could move forward again.

Happier than ever by overcoming this obstacle, they hurried as fast as they could until they could see the Fountain glittering among the trees and flowers. But before they could reach it a stream cut across their path. In the clear water there was a stone inscribed with the words:

"Pay me the treasure of your past."

Matthew tried to float across the stream on his shield, but he sank. The three warlocks pulled him from the stream and then tried to jump across, but they could not cross. The sun began to sink lower into the horizon.

So they all fell into the meaning of the message, and Francis was the first to understand. Taking his wand he drew from his mind every happy memory of him and his former lover, and dropped them into the stream. The stream swept them away, and stepping stones appeared a moment later, and the three warlocks and the Knight were able to cross.

The fountain was before them, shimmering in all its glory. The sky burned red and it was time to decide which one would step into the Fountain.

Before they could make their decision, Antonio collapsed. Exhausted by their struggle to the summit, he was in pain and close to death. His friends would have moved him, but he was in so much pain that he begged them not to touch him.

Gilbert ran and picked up all the herbs he thought would be most helpful, and mixed them together in Matthew's gourd of water, and then poured the potion in Antonio's mouth.

Almost immediately, Antonio could stand. What was even better, all his symptoms of the deadly diseases were gone.

"I'm healed!" he cried out in joy. "Have Gilbert go to the Fountain."

But Gilbert was collecting as many herbs that he could.

"If I could do that with Antonio, just what else can these do? I'll be rich! Let Francis go to the Fountain."

Matthew gestured for Francis to go forward, but he shook his head. The stream had vanished everything he had left for his lady lost, and now he could see how cold and heartless she really was. Francis was now happy to be rid of her.

"You must go to the fountain, Knight, for all you have done for us."

So Matthew went forward as the last rays of light were in the sky, and bathed in the Fountain of Fair Fortune, astonished that he was the one bathing after the hundred that had gathered there this morning. As the sun set Matthew reemerged from the fountain in all his glory and triumph, and threw himself at the feet of Francis, who was the kindest and most beautiful person he had ever seen. His face flushed with success, he begged for a chance with him, and Francis (no less delighted) realized that he had found someone worthy.

The three warlocks and the Knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four heads held high. Each of them led long and happy lives, and none of them suspected that the Fountain's waters carried no enchantments at all.


	5. The Warlock's Hairy Heart

The Warlock's Hairy Heart

* * *

><p>There was once a handsome, rich, and very talented young warlock, who observed that his friends grew foolish when they fell in love. They would ramble and pine over women, losing their appetites and their dignity. The young warlock resolved never to fall prey to such weakness, and used the Dark Arts to ensure that he was immune.<p>

Unaware of what he had done, is family laughed to see him so cold and aloof.

"This will change," they predicted, "when he finds that certain girl."

But the warlock, named Ivan, never did fall for a woman's charm. Though many did try to, intrigued bu his demeanor. They would try everything that they knew, but nothing would sway Ivan from his ways. Ivan flourished in his ways of indifference.

When Ivan's youth began to fade, his friends began to wed, and bear children. All the while Ivan remained alone.

"Their hearts must be empty by now," he sneered to himself at their antics, "shriveled by the never ending demands of those women and children.

For not the first time in his life, Ivan congratulated himself on his early choice.

In the due course that was life, Ivan's parents died. He did not mourn them, actually, he was happy that they were gone, and that he was no longer burdened by their presence. He ruled in his castle alone, with only the servants to keep him company. He moved his greatest treasure to the dungeon, and the rest of his life was given over to ease and relaxation. His servants only job was to make sure that he was comfortable.

Ivan was sure that he was an object of envy in his town, because of his wealth and solitude. He was known for having a short temper as well, and one day, he overheard his servants talking about him.

The first servant viewed him with pity, for all of Ivan's wealth he was loved by no one.

The other servant though, jeered, asking why Ivan had so much gold and power to his name but could not attract a wife.

Their words were blows to Ivan's pride. He decided at once to take a wife, and that she would be better than anyone else's. She would be beautiful beyond compare, she would be of magical descent, and she would have wealth equal to his own.

It would have taken fifty years to find such a woman, but as it happened the very next day after he decided to search for her, she appeared. She had come to town to visit her family.

She was a beautiful witch by the name of Natalia. Every man would try to woo her, but none could succeed. She could pull at the heartstrings of every man, except one. The warlock's heart felt nothing. Nevertheless, she was what he wanted, so he began to court her.

Everyone who saw the sudden change in the warlock was shocked, and told Natalia that she had succeeded where other's failed.

Natalia herself was fascinated with this warlock. She could sense the cold behind the warmth of his courtliness, but at the same time she had never met anyone like him. Her family deemed him a more than suitable match, and wanting to promote it, accepted Ivan's invitation to a feast.

the table was lined with the best silver and gold, and filled with such rare foods like never seen before. Minstrels sung and played their instruments in a corner, singing of love that their master never felt. Ivan told Natalia words of love that he had stolen from poets, never really knowing of their true meaning.

"You tell me such wonderful things, Ivan," Natalia cooed, "if only I thought you had a heart!"

Ivan smiled, and told her that she need not worry about that. Telling her to follow, he led her from the feast and people, and down into the locked dungeon where he kept his greatest treasure.

There, in an enchanted crystal casket, was Ivan's still beating heart.

Long since deprived from touch, taste, sight, and smell, his heart had never fallen prey to beauty, or heard a musical voice, or felt silken skin. Natalia was horrified by the sight, for Ivan's heart was shrunk and shriveled, covered in long hair.

"Put it back!" Natalia screamed. "For God's sake put it back!"

Ivan saw that it was the only way that would calm her. So he drew his wand and unlocked the crystal casket, sliced open his own breast and placed his hairy heart in the captivity it had once occupied.

"Now you can know what love really is!" Natalia cried, hugging him tightly.

The touch of her soft arms, her hot breath in his ear, the scent of her hair: All pierced his awakened heart like knives. It had grown strange though in its time of captivity, and it became blind and savage in the darkness, and its appetite could never be quenched.

The guests of the feast had noticed the couples absence. At first they were untroubled, but as the hours passed their worry grew. Finally they began to search the castle.

When they finally came across the dungeon, a hideous sight awaited them.

Natalia laid dead upon the floor, her heart cut open. Besides her Ivan crouched, holding in one hand a great, smooth, shinning scarlet heart, which he licked and stroked, vowing to exchange it for his own.

In the other hand he held his wand, trying to coax from his chest the withered, hairy heart. But the hairy heart was stronger than he was, and refused to relinquish its hold on the senses and return to the coffin where it had been locked for so long.

Before the horror-struck eyes of the guests, Ivan abandoned his wand, and seized a silver dagger. Vowing to never be mastered by his own heart, he hacked it from his chest.

For a moment, Ivan knelt triumphant, with a heart clutched in each hand; then he fell across Natalia's body, and died.

Fin


End file.
